The Cruel, Unfair World of Sports

Tags

chiefs, falcons, georgia bulldogs, Missouri tigers, patriots, royals, Stephen Roth, super bowl LI, tar heels

Sunday’s epic Super Bowl collapse by the Atlanta Falcons, a team I grew up living and mostly dying for, has caused me to question, again, why I even bother to follow sports.

In the 35-plus years I have been a sports fan, my favorite teams have reached the top of their respective heaps exactly seven times. That’s a pretty bad winning percentage when you consider my rooting interests include two major cities and four college programs. If I were only a fan of, say, the New England Patriots, I’d have nine Super Bowl appearances and five championships to look back fondly upon. If I only liked Boston sports, I’d have an additional three World Series champions and four NBA titles to brag about.

Life’s not that easy for most of us–in both sports and the world in general. Though never much of an athlete, I’ve been a sports fan since the age of 11. Like most fans, I’ve weathered a lot of misery over the years.

Outlined below are the teams I have followed, which I am chronicling more for therapeutic purposes than for your entertainment. Maybe this list will remind you of some of the heartbreak you’ve endured with your own favorite teams, the moments where you’ve sworn you are never going to watch another game? Or maybe you’re a Tom Brady or Duke basketball fan, and are therefore unfamiliar with emotional pain?

At any rate, here are the teams, in no particular order, that have methodically sucked some of the joy out of my life. Read about them if you dare:

Georgia Bulldogs

There was a time when I spent most of my waking hours thinking about University of Georgia football. They were my first sports love, starting with those great Herschel Walker teams of the early 1980s.

Unfortunately, the Dawgs haven’t returned to those glorious times since. With money, tradition, great facilities and access to a bounty of high school football talent, Georgia football is one of those college programs that should be great, but seldom is. The Dawgs have won only two Southeastern Conference championships since Herschel left school in early 1983. Since that time, just about every major college within driving distance of Athens, Ga., has won at least one national football title. Georgia fans must harken back to 1980 for the only time their team finished a consensus #1. Even then, it required having the greatest player in the history of college football to get them there.

Georgia still produces some very good teams, and they have a promising new coach in Kirby Smart. Maybe 2017 will finally be “The Year” that fans like me have desperately craved?

Atlanta Sports Teams

The Atlanta Braves won the World Series in 1995, one of my all-time favorite sports moments. Even that accomplishment is tinged with disappointment, as the Braves won 14 straight division titles and only won the championship once during that time. Their one World Series triumph came against Cleveland, so does that even count?

The Atlanta Hawks and Falcons have had their occasional shots at glory. The Falcons have a tradition of following up each good season with a terrible one. The gut-punch they suffered from the Patriots on Sunday night could set the franchise reeling for the next few years, if history is any indication.

Missouri Tigers

I could write a book—and have written a few blog posts—about the agonies of being a fan of “Ol’ Misery.” Truth is, following my alma mater hasn’t been all that bad. The Tigers have had several good football and basketball teams over the years. They’ve just never clawed their way to the top.

A lot of Mizzou fans like to drone on and on about how the program is cursed, as the Tigers have suffered more than their share of soul-crushing losses in football and hoops. However, Missouri athletics also raises far less money than the powerhouse programs in college sports, so dashed dreams seem to be built into the formula. The Tigers will have good teams again (they’re currently dreadful in both basketball and football), but championships are not very likely.

Kansas City Royals

They may never get credit for it, but the Royals pulled off one of the greatest miracles in baseball history by reaching the World Series in 2014 and 2015, and winning it all the second time around. The Royals are a small-market franchise with a limited payroll. Somehow, after decades of failure, they developed a home-grown team with incredible chemistry that came within one game of winning two straight world championships. The Chicago Cubs are America’s darlings for their 2016 title, but they spent a ton of money to get there. The Royals did it the hard way.

You need to have endured the 29-year run of mostly horrible Royals baseball to appreciate how far the franchise has climbed. The Royals’ success in 2014-2015 made all that suffering worthwhile with a rare sports moment in which the underdogs finally came out on top.

Kansas City Chiefs 

Atlanta Falcons fans should be glad they don’t live in the football purgatory the Chiefs have inhabited for decades. The Hunt family, who have owned the team from its beginning, keep following the same risk-adverse formula: draft defenders, offensive linemen and the occasional running back, then sign a free-agent quarterback who lost his starting job at one of the elite franchises (49ers, Patriots). This approach has earned the Chiefs a few playoff appearances, but little more. The team has won exactly four playoff games since winning the Super Bowl in January 1970.

This spring, the Chiefs could trade up in the draft to get Clemson’s all-around superstar QB Deshaun Watson in the first round. I can’t wait to see which nose guard they decide to draft instead.

Army Football

My dad went to West Point, so I have always cared about the fortunes of Army (or, as Lou Holtz once stupidly called it, “The University of The Army”). All too often, the football Cadets have been bad–very, very bad. But, hey, they finally beat Navy last year and went to a bowl game, so hope springs eternal.

North Carolina Tar Heels

This is the one time I got it right in selecting a favorite team to follow. My mother’s family are all Tar Heels, and thank God for that. Carolina basketball won national titles in 1982, 1993, 2005 and 2009, and has appeared in many Final Fours. I only wish I liked Roy Williams just a little bit better. I’ve always thought he was a bit of a fraud.

Those are my sports fan misadventures, most of them grim. How about you? Do you have any teams you can’t help but pull for, though a little part of you dies each time they let you down?

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If Life Were Like Facebook

Tags

Facebook, lee greenwood, president, social media, trump, twitter

My wife woke me Friday morning with her usual greeting.

“You won’t believe what he did now,” she muttered.

Not bothering to answer, I lifted my phone from the bedside table, scrolled through my newsfeed, and found the article that was the source of this morning’s agitation: “Trump Moves Press Corps to White House Basement.”

I re-posted the article on my feed with a one-word introduction: “Ugh.” Then I hit the shower.

The drive to work was predictably slow, as traffic threaded past several rear-end accidents that were likely due to people posting updates and checking their “likes.” Self-driving cars can’t get here soon enough, I thought.

“Trump’s an idiot,” my coworker, Josh, declared as I settled into my office cubicle. “He is a horrible, horrible human being.”

“Yeah, I heard about the press corps,” I replied.

“No,” said Josh, dabbing his nose with a well-worn Kleenex. “I’m talking about the executive order declaring ‘God Bless the U.S.A.’ as the new national anthem.”

“Ridiculous,” agreed Kathryn, popping her head above the cubical wall, wide-eyed as a frightened prairie dog. “This has got to stop. Who voted for this guy?”

“I voted for him,” Adam said, swiveling his chair toward us. “And it’s time for a new anthem. Lee Greenwood has done a hell of a lot more for this country than Francis Scott Key ever did.”

“Great news!” Jenny said as she breezed past our row. “My daughter just got accepted to Stanford!”

“Good for her,” Josh said with a snort. “A college degree will mean a lot when we’re all working the salt mines for the Chinese.”

We went to lunch a little earlier than usual, it being a Friday and all. After posting pics of our entrees on our respective newsfeeds, we returned to lamenting Trump’s latest tweet about election fraud.

“I know, right?” the waitress chirped as she handed us a fresh basket of microwaved cheese bread. “He’s such a psychopath. Shaking my head!”

The afternoon dragged on at work, as it usually does, but I was proud of the 240-word post I wrote about freedom of the press and the looming national tragedy. By the time I left the office, it had garnered 24 “likes,” and seven “loves.”

Glancing down at my phone as I merged onto the highway, I never saw the Peterbilt truck that sideswiped my Prius, sending it rolling over a ditch and into the trees that lined the road.

I woke up hours—maybe days—later, in a hospital room bathed in sunlight.

“You hear what Trump did today?” a nurse asked as she checked my chart.

“I know,” my wife muttered, peering at her phone. “What did we ever do to deserve this crap?”

Stephen Roth is the author of the comic novel A Plot for Pridemore, which won the 2012 Ferrol Sams Award for Fiction.

Trump’s First Tweets as President

Tags

obama, pence, president, trump, twitter

3:21 a.m., Jan 21 – So proud 2 be POTUS and lead this really, really great country of ours. Inauguration balls were phenomenal. Really wish Melania was here.

3:24 a.m. Jan 21 – Time for bed. Busy day tomorrow. We are going to get so much done. Good night, America!

7:36 a.m. Jan 21 – Very nasty editorial in the failing NYTimes today about my speech. WashPost no better. Nobody reads newspapers anyway.

7:57 a.m. Jan 21 – Really, really disappointed in CNN’s lies. We are going to do a number on them.

8:34 a.m. Jan 21 – Working very, very hard this morning!

9:23 a.m. Jan 21 – Just back from 1st security briefing as POTUS. Things worse than expected. Thank you, Obama!

9:34 a.m. Jan 21 – You would not believe what they tell POTUS in these security meetings. Sworn to secrecy, but you would not believe what they tell me.

9:39 a.m. Jan 21 – BTW, that Area 51 thing. Totally true!

9:45 a.m. Jan 21 – JFK assassination very interesting. Can’t say much, but do not believe what you have been taught in history class! #publicschoolsfail

9:51 a.m. Jan 21 – Also, Nixon may have been gay. Still a great president!

10:10 a.m. Jan 21 – First executive order! Rezoning land in Palm Springs for Trump Pacifica Hotel. Creating jobs for SoCal economy. More 2 come!

10:15 a.m. Jan 21 – Still thinking about security briefing. Tough times, but you are in good hands, America!

10:45 a.m. Jan 21 – Secret service wants my Android and Twitter account password. Never!

10:50 a.m. Jan 21 – VP Pence very annoyed with me. Such a good man. Hate when he gets angry. @realDonaldTrump going offline for now.

Just Joking!

Tags

comedy, humor, jokes, six-year-olds, squirrels

After a few hundred attempts, my six-year-old son told a funny joke for the first time last night.

Here’s the joke:

Q: How do you catch a squirrel?

A: You act like a nut!

Our child has been trying for years to come up with a joke that will make us laugh. “Is that funny?” he’ll ask us after telling a silly, nonsensical knock-knock joke he just made up on the spot. We patiently explain to him that a good joke takes a little time and creativity. Perhaps he should start by memorizing a simple joke and tell that to his friends instead, we’ll gently suggest. We’ll also point out that if you have to ask your audience if a joke is funny, then it probably isn’t.

I know that the squirrel joke is not an original, but every young stand-up has to start somewhere, and our young son delivered the punchline with flawless timing. He is also very good at acting like a nut, so the humor fits his slap-stick comedic style.

The ability to make other people laugh is a formidable social skill and one our son already believes to be important. I hope his sense of humor continues to evolve. The world can be a pretty tough place if you don’t learn how to joke about it, and help others laugh along with you.

The Social Media Activist

Tags

activism, election, Facebook, politics, social media, twitter

He’s the first one to post
when things couldn’t be worse.
A riot, the government,
the Billy Goat Curse.

He trolls through the Web
With justice in mind.
Writing words that are true,
But not terribly kind.

When he’s really annoyed,
he might go on a screed
about late-term abortions
or the music of Creed.

He’s the friend whom you never
would dare to unfriend.
For you know that he’d notice,
and then angrily send
you a message that asks
why you’d ever take issue
at his meme about guns.
Should he fetch you a tissue?

He’s the social media activist.

And then there are moments
that touch everyone’s heart,
A shooting, a court case,
Someone’s life ripped apart.

At that very moment,
He will rush to his Dell
And alter his profile pic
to show he means well.

It’s the least he can do
as a person who cares
about big events
that score “likes” and “shares.”

He’s the social media activist.

And every four years
when they have an election,
he’ll post all day long
about his selection.

He’ll share lots of click-bait,
some of it true,
about his opponents
And bad things that they do.

Crowding out all the posts
about babies and kittens,
and marriage announcements,
and warm, woolen mittens.

It’s kind of turned into his calling,
you see.
When he’s not stuck at work
or home watching TV.

He’s there to remind us
of terrible stuff
that will or may happen,
of how life can be tough.

And I think he’s succeeded
to an alarming extent
at making Facebook and Twitter
great places to vent.

He’s the social media activist.

Eighteen Months of Happy Gilmore

Tags

2016, adam sandler, election, happy gilmore, hillary clinton, trump

Happy Gilmore is a movie about a guy who decides to become a professional golfer, even though he knows nothing about the sport and has no training. Amazingly, he starts winning tournaments and builds up an army of followers who love Happy’s fiery demeanor, especially when compared with the stodgy, unlikable players who have dominated golf for so long. Happy even draws in fans who have never followed the sport before.

I feel like the past 18 months have been a political version of Happy Gilmore. I’m surprised by last night’s election results, but I am not shocked. Whether you are “happy” today or not, this is the country we live in right now. I’m praying for the best possible outcome.

Donald Trump’s Big Red Book of History

Tags

donald trump, george washington, gorbachev, history, revolutionary war, ronald reagan, soviet union, stalin

NEW YORK, NY (Aug. 25, 2016)–Less than 80 days before the 2016 presidential election, Donald Trump has announced the publication of a new book, The Trump Big Red Book of History.

At a press conference Thursday inside the Trump Tower, Trump praised the new book as “an inside look” and “the real story” about the history of Western Civilization. Unlike previous books published by the presidential candidate and real estate billionaire, Trump said he did not use a ghost writer, noting that he didn’t need one and did not want to share royalties that he expects will be “huge.”

Trump added that he has been working on the book for years and that the publication date has nothing to do with his bid for the White House.

“They say that history books are written by the winners, and that’s very, very true,” Trump said. “Look, I’m a winner. I’ve always been a winner. And so I wrote a history book.”

Below are three exclusive excerpts from Trump’s new book, which can be purchased at Barnes & Noble and Amazon.com beginning next week:

The Revolutionary War

One thing about America, one thing that made us so, so great, was that we didn’t take crap from anybody. King George—you know about him? He was the ultimate insider. He didn’t just benefit from the system, he was the system. That’s how they did things back then, with kings and queens and the Earl of Sandwich and all. They controlled everything, and everyone.

And, you know what King George did? He did what they all do. He did what Hillary wants to do if she becomes president. He raised the people’s taxes. But Americans in those days wouldn’t stand for it. They didn’t take anything lying down. They got together and they wrote up this document called the Declaration of Independence. It’s a beautiful, beautiful document. It’s my favorite thing to read, right behind the Bible.

So George Washington got on a ship to take this Declaration of Independence to King George, because in those days there was no such thing as Next Day Air. And as Washington was leaving Boston Harbor, he saw these guys dressed up like Indians dumping boxes of tea into the water. And he smiled a big smile. Do you know why? Because George Washington knew right then that we were gonna win the war. Because nobody tells Americans what to do. At least not back when we were great.

The Soviet Union in World War II

Stalin was a bad guy, okay? A bad, bad guy. Nobody’s arguing that. But you know what Stalin did really well? Do you know what he did better than almost anybody else? He never gave up. He was tough! He was a very tough guy. Even when the Germans were knocking on the door of the Kremlin back in 1940-whatever-it-was, Stalin said, “You people are completely out of line. We’re gonna push you back across the border where you belong!”

Another thing about Stalin was he was extremely competitive. No one got the best of Stalin. He looked at Hitler and he said, “Oh, you’re gonna kill six million people? Well, guess what? I already killed 10 million people!” That was Stalin for you. Always competing.

And you know what they did after Stalin died, in his honor? They went into Berlin and they built a wall. And you know something else? They made the Germans pay for it.

The Reagan Revolution

Speaking of walls, here’s a guy who liked to tear walls down. And you know what? He tore down walls very, very well.

Of course, he had a little help.

In the 1980s, when my net worth was only somewhere around $500 million, I met President Reagan in the White House. He didn’t have to meet with me, but he did. He was a very gracious man, and very bright. He looked great in a navy blue suit! Just being around this guy, you could tell he was going to do big, big things with this country.

We started talking about Russia. And I said, “you know, Mr. President, the Russians have a lot of natural resources. Lots of oil, lots of coal, and I’m sure they have other things. They’re tough negotiators, but they could be wonderful business partners, especially with the right guy in charge.”

Reagan nodded, the way he always did. He seemed to be in deep thought. Then he spoke.

“They got a new guy in there, you know,” he told me. “Seems like a sharp guy. You think I should give him a call?”

The guy was Gorbachev, of course. And I told the president, “that’s exactly what you should do. Make the call. Make the first move. Get leverage. Keep him on his heels.”

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Facebook and the First Day of School

Tags

childhood, Facebook, first day of school, parenting, school, social media

Facebook Posts About Little Girls on The First Day of School:

• “Ready for another exciting year at Taft Elementary! Our little Kimberly missed all of her friends!”
• “Gracie loves her Paw Patrol backpack! So psyched about kindergarten!”
• “Third grade, here we come! Kelsey is growing up so fast!”
• “No fears about second grade. Sophia couldn’t wait to get on the bus!”
• “Math is fun! Here’s a video of Olivia explaining the Pythagorean theorem. Look out, first grade!”

Facebook Posts About Little Boys on the First Day of School:

• “First day of kindergarten for Tyler. Wish us luck.”
• “This is the best photo we could get for Jacob’s first day of second grade. We practically had to drag him out of bed.”
• “If nose-picking is a 1st grade subject, Declan will sail through with flying colors—all of them gross.”
• “That blur you see is our son as we attempted a back-to-school pic. Prayers for his teacher and classmates.”
• “And, so it begins…”

Three Ways to Tell Who Really Likes You

Tags

do your friends actually like you?, humor, new york times, observations, parenthood, trump

Lost among this week’s media coverage of the latest asinine comments from Donald Trump was an intriguing New York Times article titled, “Do Your Friends Actually Like You?”

The thrust of the story is that not as many people truly like us as we imagine. Most “friends” are really just casual acquaintances. Others are friendly to us for their own selfish, manipulative reasons. The article quotes various academic experts who seem to agree that most of us each have, at best, four to five true friends who carry no agenda. These friends simply love us for who we are, and they genuinely enjoy our company.

I had hoped that the Times would provide some constructive ways to weed out your phony friends and identify the ones who really care about you. The Times is usually more than willing to tell people what to do with their lives, but this time it fell short. There were no tangible “next steps” for categorizing and managing one’s friends.

So I came up with some exercises that might help. Here are three simple scenarios you can create that will help you identify your real friends:

1. Have a Child

This exercise is particularly effective if you are among the first in your social circle to try it. Just get married, have a kid, and watch in amazement as interactions with some of your closest pals trickle down to an exchange of text messages every two or three months.

At your child’s first birthday, make a point of counting the number of non-relatives who call regularly, occasionally stop by to help with the baby, remember the baby’s name, and listen patiently as you ramble on about the baby. If you need more than one hand to list those friends, you’re doing better than most new parents.

2. Move Out

Plan to move to a new home or apartment. DO NOT hire professional movers. Instead, ask your friends if they would mind helping you out. Make a point of not packing any boxes before they arrive at your place at 7 a.m. on Saturday morning.

Also, make it clear early on that you are running low on cash, and you won’t be able to provide free pizza or beer after the move is complete.

Those two or three people who are still around four hours later to help unpack your grandmother’s china? Those are your real friends.

3. Do Something Crazy

Invite all your friends to meet up for drinks after work. Excitedly explain to them how you are going to quit your job, sell your possessions, and dedicate the next three years of your life to traveling the country in search of The Perfect Cheeseburger. Sure, you only have $530 in the bank, along with a mountain of debt. But you’ve got a pup tent, your trusty 1989 Honda Civic, and a list of the best burger joints along the East Coast. Anyway, life is short. It’s time to follow your dreams.

Those people smiling and nodding as they try to wave down the waiter for their checks? They aren’t your friends.

The handful of people who are with you four drinks later, calmly asking if you’ve really thought this all the way through? The ones who remind you about your spouse and kids, and ask what happens to them during your quest for The Perfect Cheeseburger?

Those people are your real friends. They always will be.

Your Password Has Expired

Tags

death, drops of jupiter, gmail, God, heaven, hell, humor, life, observations, pearly gates, satire, st. peter, timberland, train

Dale followed the light, which is what they always say you should do. His body was catapulted into some kind of cosmic vortex, where he floated around for what seemed like days.

Finally, he landed, his Timberland work boots touching a marble floor. Up ahead were six massive, ivory columns that reached into the clouds. A man with a long, white beard and a flowing gown approached him, and smiled. Dale knew he must be St. Peter.

“Hello, Dale,” he said. “We’re glad to have you.”

Dale nodded and blinked. Everything was very bright up here in the clouds.

“Just go over to one of the kiosks and sign yourself in,” St. Peter advised, extending a cloaked arm toward a battery of silver-plated work stations with glowing LED screens.

Dale walked to one of the kiosks and typed in his name.

“Do you have your confirmation number?”

“My what?”

“You need a confirmation number,” St. Peter said. “We sent it to you in a text message before you arrived. Do you have your phone?”

“Why would I have my phone?” Dale asked.

St. Peter shook his head. “People usually bring their phones. It’s okay. Let me help you.”

The apostle walked to the kiosk and moved his pale, perfectly manicured fingers across the screen.

“Can’t you just let me in?” Dale asked. “You obviously know who I am.”

“I do?”

“You called me by name when I got here.”

St. Peter looked at him dubiously. “That’s because it’s on your shirt.”

Dale looked down at the ironed patch on the left breast of his shirt. Dale had forgotten he was at work when the end came. His last conscious memory was scrambling across the floor, crab-like, as the underbelly of a Toyota Prius tumbled over him.

St. Peter squinted at the kiosk screen. “We just upgraded to a new system,” he explained. “To say that it has a few bugs would be a bit of an understatement.”

Dale nodded. He was extremely tired.

“What’s your gmail address and password?” the saint asked. “That might do the trick.”

Dale tried to remember his password. He gave St. Peter a combination of his first pet’s name and the year he graduated from high school. It didn’t work. Dale gave him the name of his first girlfriend and the year he lost his virginity. Still no luck.

“Cheese and rice! This new system! I wish I could just wave you through, but I can’t,” St. Peter said. “Look, it’s getting late, and you’re exhausted. I’m going to book you a night at a place near here, and we’ll try this again tomorrow. Sound good?”

St. Peter reached into his gown and pulled out an Android phone. He made the arrangements. Dale checked into the Pearly Gates Lodge, which billed itself as “The Closest Thing to Heaven.” The bed was rock-hard and the remote control didn’t work, but he was too tired to care. The breakfast buffet the next morning was pretty good, although the eggs were a little runny for Dale’s liking.

“Hello, Dale,” St. Peter said, glancing at his shirt. “We’re glad to have you.”

“I was here yesterday. I remembered my gmail password.”

“Very good. Let’s give it a try.”

They walked to the nearest kiosk. The password had come to Dale as he awoke that morning on the rock-hard motel mattress. FairLane#1968—it was the model and year of his first car.

“Oh, heavens,” St. Peter said, after keying in the password three times. “Not good. Not good at all.”

“What is it?”

“It says, ‘your password has expired.’”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

Dale stood, a hand propped on his hip as St. Peter swiped through several brightly colored pages on the kiosk screen. Dale looked around. It seemed odd that he and St. Peter were the only two people at the entrance to Heaven. He crossed his arms and listened to a familiar melody playing softly over the PA system. After a moment or two, he identified the song as “Drops of Jupiter,” by Train.

“So, what’s Hell like?” Dale asked.

“Hell?” St. Peter said, still staring at the screen. “Oh, it’s a mess, total chaos. They run things on a paper-based system. It’s like being in the 1970s all over again.”

“Yeah?”

“The bars down there are all open until two in the morning, though. People need to self-medicate, you know, to deal with all the inefficiencies of being in Hell.”

“Sounds like my kind of place,” Dale said. “How do I get there?”

“The saint gave him a disapproving look. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I think I’d like to give it a try,” Dale said.

“Well, there’s no easy way to transfer you. If you’re really serious about going to Hell, you’ll have to fill out a few forms. It could take weeks to sort everything out.”

Dale pivoted on the heel of his boot and gave St. Peter a wave as he walked toward the gold-hued cumulonimbus clouds.

“No thanks,” Dale said. “I’ll figure out a way down there myself.”